Page 50 of Beast

I study the patches on the front. TheChaos and Mayhemlogo on the left breast. ThePresidentpatch on the right. I run my finger over the word president and the enormity of who I am marrying hits me. This man is the king of this castle and I am going to be his queen.His old lady.

Suddenly it doesn’t seem right that he’s wasting it on me. He deserves a better queen. At least a better fake one. Even if he is a blackmailing dick. I can see his importance to the people of his club.

I think about my uncle and the care he is receiving because of this deal, and I know I have to make this work.

Deciding to do better as Beast’s fake queen, I slide the cut back over the chair but notice the heavy weight inside one of the breast pockets. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I slide my hand inside, and my fingers graze soft leather.

It’s his wallet.

I pull it out and open it, hoping to get some idea about the man I am supposed to marry.

Inside is his driver’s license, which tells me his name is Adam and he’s thirty-one years old.Eighteen months older than me. And his last name is Vale. Which means I will be Mrs. Vale.

I whisper his name.

Adam Vale.

My equilibrium tilts on its axis and I feel a little light headed. I close my eyes and wait for it to pass. I’m not used to alcohol and the shots of Wildfire are obviously fucking with me.

Shaking it off, I return my attention to the contents of his wallet.

Besides his license, there’s also an assortment of bankcards and a Knights of St. Bon membership card. There’s a wad of cash too. About three hundred dollars in fifty dollar bills.

But nothing that really tells me much about him.

I’m about to put it back when something catches my eye. The corner of something poking out of one of the card holders.

I pull it out and unfold it. It’s a well-worn photograph, small and old and ravaged from being folded up for so long in hiswallet. It’s of a little boy and a little girl. Both with blonde hair. About the same age. They’re sitting on a piece of playground equipment. She’s leaning over and kissing him on the cheek and he’s smiling at the camera.

A strange feeling settles over me. Other than Annika, Beast hasn’t talked about his family. Could this be his sister?

It could be Annika. But my gut tells me it’s not. Something doesn’t feel right about the photo, and I think it’s because I can tell Beast has suffered an immeasurable loss, and maybe this is it. What happened to the girl in the photograph? Is that why he’s so guarded? So…growly?

In the bathroom, the shower turns off, so I carefully refold the photo and return it to where it belongs. Tucking his wallet back into his cut pocket, I readjust it on the chair and scurry back to the bed.

Minutes later, Beast steps into the room drying off his long hair with a towel while another is wrapped around his hips.

And wow.

Just…wow.

I can’t help but run my gaze over him. More than once. And I’m not too pissed at him to admit that the sight of him wearing nothing but a towel is magnificent. I absorb it slowly. Golden skin covered in tattoos and gleaming with droplets of water. Thick slabs of muscle covering every inch of him. Long wet hair trailing past big shoulders and down his broad back. An eight-pack sparkling with shower water.

Not to mention that when he walks, the towel does nothing to hide the fact there is something very big swinging behind it.

Sweet baby Jesus.

He walks to the vintage dresser near one of the arch windows and opens one of the top drawers and removes a pair of boxer shorts. Then, like I’m not even in the room, he pulls them on under the towel before letting it slip to the floor.

When he turns around, I’m pretty sure my mouth drops open. I’m not completely sure because all the oxygen has left my brain, and all I am aware of is the sight of Beast in his underwear and how his boxer shorts cling to his skin and do nothing to hide what hangs so heavily between his legs.

Dear mother of God.

My neck and face flush, and my mouth salivates.

I have never seen anything like it before in my life.

Our eyes meet and I quickly look away, hating the sexy smirk on his lips.

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